In the darkness of the hotel room, something stirred. Bobby zi lay silently on the bed. Still groggy from sleep, he tried to get a fix on where the movement had been. Then he saw a humanoid shape, moving towards him from the corner of the room. zi rolled to his left out of the bed, just his pillow exploded in a cloud of feathers with a loud clap of a gunshot.

Bobby, tried to reach his Berretta handgun sitting on a chair next to the nightstand. Another gunshot rang out behind him. Ice seemed to run through his veins, and he collapsed on the floor. He noticed that he was laying in a wide red pool. The figure came over to him, stopping within the blood puddle. Bobby looked up weakly, to see the face of the figure right as they squeezed off another round into his head.

JOEY HAWKINs.

With a start, Bobby sat up in the hotel bed. Sweat had soaked the sheets and towel. He sat at the edge, and shook his head, taking a few moments to get his brain together.

"Jesus" He muttered.

After pulling himself together and taking his breakfast, he ventured out into the streets of Delhi. The city reeked: Body odor, garbage, defecation,it all rolled together in a stench that assaulted the senses with the presence of a baseball bat. He HATED this place. The ONLY good thing to come of the trip was that he was so unmotivated to get outside amongst the stifling crowds and the noise, that he actually began to catch up on his sleep. The ever present dark circles under his eyes, even seemed less somehow. Even with the fucked up dreams.

The job he took during the night had been interesting. It started out as a simple courier gig, but as he'd made his way through Old Delhi, some bastard tried to roll him. A quick knife flourish, and the man quickly realized the error of his ways. zi, left him in an alley to bleed out the remainder of his life. Unfortunately, blood had spurted out of the wound as the man fell, and stained Bobby's shirt.

He pushed through the throng of dark skinned Indians, a cacophony of noise pressed in on him, as much as the ever-throbbing mass of people. There was just over 13 million of the poor bastards in the city, and at the moment Bobby had a hard time convincing himself that they were all on the street he was on.

Bobby zi fucking hated this city.

He ducked into a busy little restaurant, and found that powell was waiting for him, sitting in a corner booth towards the back. He nodded to zi, as bobby made his way between the waiters and the tables.

The place looked to him as if it had been entirely made of clay. Everything seemed to be dirty, and brown. The inside smelled little better than outside, but now a heavy scent of chutney added it's reek to the air.

"You know what's disgusting?" powell asked as zi sat down across from him.

"India?" zi responded humorlessly.

"Well, yeah, that too" Powell leaned forward. "Are you aware that the sense of smell is accomplished by the nose bringing in microscopic bits of the stuff we're actually smelling? So If that guy over there farts, and we smell it over here, we are actually taking in to our noses and lungs the fecal matter of that man..."

"Is there a reason you are telling me this?" Bobby asked, clearly not impressed or amused.

"I just thought you'd like to know, man..." powell said flashing his trade mark grin.

"As if I didn't hate this hell hole enough..." Bobby muttered.

"Hey, at least Dunn [mr dunn is a GM of "WWP" where powell and chris wrestle currently] scheduled us to be here when the weather is actually nice. I mean, if he'd scheduled us to do a show here after April? Shit, man you'd want to shoot yourself..." Powell motioned for a waiter.

"I already want to shoot myself..." Bobby said monotonously as he held his face in his hands. He wanted to leave.

"Well, I can see that you're having a pretty Off day What, you're meds not kicking in?" Joe powell said, as he watched a female waitress come towards the table. "Dude, our waitress is really ugly..."

"Thanks for the update, dick." zi, continued to hold his head in his hands. "Don't you think she might be able to hear you?"

"Oh, like I give a shit. I'm speaking American, she speaks, like, Swahili or something."

"Hindi. Look Joe, as much as you seem to have taken to this country like a fucking fish to water, I'd much rather be indoors, someplace clean. And where they don't have food that smells like someone threw it up before it got cooked..."

"Okay. Whatever, asshole." Powell exclaimed. "You're a fucking pussy. You know that?" HE waved the girl off, and headed for the door. "Well, fuck-knuckles, are you coming or not?"

"Fuck-knuckles?" Bobby asked, giving Joe a look. "Where are we heading?"

"You'll see."

The red sandstone walls of the massive structure known simply as 'Red Fort' rose a good 108 feet into the air, and effectively kept out the clamor of Old Delhi. After passing through the Lahore Gate, Powell and Bobby wandered around the peaceful gardens.

The two stepped up into one of the many pavilions, and leaned on the hewn wooden railing.

"Better?" Powell asked, looking over at his friend.

Bobby nodded in response and gazed out over the variety of plants and trees that landscaped the area. "I just couldn't think straight back there. That and the smell was really getting to me. Thanks a lot of for that wonderful Discovery Channel tidbit, that's just what I needed."

Powell smirked. "Did you opponent shot his so called "promo"?"

"No,still not."

Powell shook his head. "Who the fuck says shit like he is going to beat you to a pulp, anyway? You might as well tell someone to put up your dukes"

That got a smirk from zi, and he rose to his full height. "Even so, the guy seems pretty rabid to beat the ever-living shit out of me. Not like he can, but still--"

"Not gonna happen my friend. The 'mighty' hawkins wont be a threat for you. You have this match in the proverbial bag..." Powell responded.

"joey hawkins isn't what is worrying me. He's probably just sitting around in his, hanging out with his some dickheads, and trying to come up with some more wonderful insults that no one's ever heard before. His latest masterwork to watch for will probably be "Im going to kick you ass! or I'm going to tear your arms off'..."

"Ah, well you gotta give the guy a little credit. At least he TRIES which is more than what some of the others in this shithole we call a fed do." Powell said.

"If Joey has any hopes of beating me this match, he's going to need to get his shit together. For the love of God This match is going to be his toughest yet, both physically and emotionally. I'm the most devastating opponent the man has ever faced in his entire life. Why can I say that? Because plain and simple: I am the best. " zi looks serious on this..

"Dude, I can take you you know that's true. I mean, it wouldn't be easy, but I am easily the ONLY wrestler in the world that could!" Powell said jokingly..

"I'll give you your due." zi said, "But Joey hawkins is no Joe Powell."

"Damn straight, fucker!"

Bobby walked to the edge of the pavilion. "Do you fucking think that you have what it takes to topple the greatest, joey ? Do you have the fortitude to take it all the way to the end of the road? You don't. You aren't going to stop me, monday night or fucking EVER. I will not accept that situation. I've been operating at my peak in this company ever since I am here. I don't have bad days in the ring. I don't decide to suck and allow someone to pin me. Each day I grow in skill. Each day you see me, you are seeing me at the best I've ever been. Do you not see this? Are you fucking blind?.."

Powell, watch with amusement as zi ranted off as if he was doing it in front of a camera. He himself had always been a big proponent to ranting fake flash. He knew firsthand how therapeutic it could be. He hopped down to the grass. "JOe, very VERY few can dare stand toe to toe with this man. BOBBY ZI is not an opponent who you can fucking browbeat into submission. You can only try to physically wrest him down, but you just can't do it. dude, I've been watching you since you first made an appearance here. Your performances in the ring can be described as only being lackluster at best. At worse, you dont even measure up to fucking losers like Mastermind!"

Bobby laughed at that. "You couldn't give a beating to a paraplegic if you were handed a stick and asked too. You are barely competent to pull out a victory once and awhile, yet after this match you yourself will admit that I bested you, where the hell do you get off thinking that you have a chance at taking out a marquee player like me? I just don't see that logic in that one."

zi stepped down to the grass across from Powell. "Up to this point you haven't proven that you are any good. As far as I can see you are no better than a sticking rotten midden heap of wonderful Old Delhi. I am going to break your spirit, like you could dream that you can break my legs. While you are trying to flay the skin off of my body, I am going to peel back the layers of your pride, and expose the raw and chewy center to the crowds. While you are claiming to be able to beat me to a pulp, I am going to be pinning you to the mat, after hitting you with the DREAM CRUSHER. The only thing that you WILL be doing to me joey, is begging me with every ounce of your eternal soul to give you mercy. You are through joey'. You are not even in my league, and I will show you just how evident that really is.."

Powell nodded in improvement then asked, "Can I have the honors of cramming that "stupid chair" of 'that' loser, up his ass??

"Dude, if you can actually accomplish that, you can be my guest."

Former 2× X-treme ChampIon